


Beach Day

by bumblebi221



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Day At The Beach, Fluff, Funny, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebi221/pseuds/bumblebi221
Summary: Sherlock and his friends head to the beach for a day of crime-free fun. Takes place around S2.The first three chapters were previously posted on Wattpad, but as you may have seen in my makeover story, I'm moving my fanfics to here and deleting them from Wattpad.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Going on an Adventure

“Sherlock, get up!” John came into Sherlock’s room and opened the curtains wide. The light came streaming in through the window, causing him to groan and turn over. He pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders and mashed his face into the pillow. “Sherlock, you have to get up. We’re going to the beach, remember?” Sherlock turned his head slightly so one eye could be seen while the other was still buried in the pillow.

“Oh, yes. That’s today.” He smiled but made no move to leave the bed.

“Sherlock, get up.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Sherlock wrapped the sheets around him and got up out of bed while John went to his room and made sure he had everything he needed. He had sunblock, towels, his wallet, sunglasses, and a book. And his swim suit, of course. Lestrade was in charge of the umbrella, and Mrs. Hudson was downstairs packing food. Mycroft said he was bringing something for Sherlock, though he didn’t say what. He brought his bag downstairs to the sitting room and made breakfast for him and Sherlock, since Mrs. Hudson was busy packing. They each had an egg, but John had with it beans and toast and sausage, while Sherlock had chips (fries) and ham.

“Sherlock, breakfast is ready!” He set the plates down on the table. Sherlock walked in, still in his sheet. “You have to get dressed.”

“You said breakfast was ready. So I’m having breakfast.”

“You were supposed to get dressed before breakfast. What have you been doing?”

“I got distracted.”

“Distracted how?”

“...I went back to bed.” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’m finished. Should I go get dressed now?” Sherlock’s plate was barely touched. Only the egg was completely finished, as there were still chips and ham on it. Sherlock had eaten the important parts though, so John had no choice but to excuse him as he continued to work on his beans.

John finished his breakfast and brought his and Sherlock’s plates to the sink. He scraped Sherlock’s leftovers into a container to save. No use wasting more food and energy on breakfast tomorrow when he still had so much left. He brushed his teeth and then, for the first time all morning, sat down in peace. Less than ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. He heard Mrs. Hudson get it, and muffled voices exchanging pleasant greetings. A few seconds later, the door opened and in came Lestrade. The sunscreen on his face wasn’t totally rubbed in, and he was wearing big sunglasses. He was wearing a floral print vacation shirt and swim trunks.

“Hey, John!” He said. “You excited?” A crash came from Sherlock’s room, causing both Greg and John to turn their heads.

“I’m ok,” he reassured them from down the hall. John turned back to Greg.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Excited. It’ll be great to relax while you guys watch him, for a change.” The doorbell rang again, and up came Molly, wearing a sundress over her swimsuit and donning a wide-brimmed hat. She had a big woven bag slung over one shoulder filled with stuff for the beach.

“Hi, guys,” she said.

“Oh, hi, Molly,” said Lestrade. “How are you?” the two began chatting while John grew increasingly annoyed that Sherlock wasn’t ready yet. He got up and went to his bedroom door. He knocked.

“Come in,” answered Sherlock. John opened the door to find Sherlock in his swimsuit, ready to leave. He was wearing black swim shorts and a matching swim shirt. He was sitting on his bed, perfectly calm, staring up at John.

“I didn’t know you were ready, we were waiting,” said John. Sherlock blinked.

“I’m sorry, I got sidetracked.” John noticed a small, flat lump under Sherlock’s blankets, near his right hand. He reached for it, but Sherlock was too quick and covered it with his hands.

“What is that?” John asked.

“Nothing.”

“Can I see it then, if it’s so unimportant?” Sherlock shifted uncomfortably and reluctantly took his hands away. John reached under the blankets and pulled out a small framed picture. A small boy with curly hair in a pirate costume was running around on a beach, and an older, chubbier boy was standing to the side smiling. The younger boy was holding a sword and what looked like a map. He was laughing.

“It’s you,” said John quietly, shaking his head.

“It’s me,” said Sherlock.

“Mycroft told me you wanted to be a pirate.”

“Did he now?”

“Did you go to the beach a lot?”

“Yes, during the summers it was almost every day.”

“How come you never go anymore?” Sherlock looked down at his feet.

“Too busy with, um, work.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yes, it is. Excellent deduction, John. You’re improving.” John smiled and looked at his own feet.

“So why don’t you go?” He said, looking up again. Too late. Sherlock had left the room. John followed him back to where Greg and Molly were still talking, though they had now been joined by Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock had taken up residence on the couch.

“We’re just waiting for Mycroft, right?” Greg said, turning to John.

“Erm, yeah. Where is he?” John answered.

“Probably hoping we’ll leave without him,” said Sherlock. The group sat waiting until they could stand it no longer.

“Let’s just go,” said John. “If he’s coming, he can just meet us there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Greg. Everyone grabbed their bags and headed downstairs, when they realized. Mycroft was their ride. Greg had a car, but he could only fit so many of them. They were just about to head back upstairs when Mycroft’s sleek black car pulled up.

“I’m sorry I’m late, you know how it can get at the office,” he said upon leaving his car.

“Oh, yes, at the embassy,” said Sherlock mockingly. “You’re half our ride, you know.”

“Sorry, brother mine, but duty calls.” While the brothers glared at each other, the rest of the group loaded the bags into the cars.

“We’re ready when you two are,” said Molly. Mycroft broke the stare first.

“Yes, I think we’re ready,” he said. Sherlock got into Greg’s car with John, while Molly and Mrs. H. got into Mycroft’s. Finally, after much anticipation, they set off for the beach.


	2. At Last, We're Here

After what seemed like ages (but was really just an hour), the boys finally arrived at the beach. They parked the car and got their bags, searching for signs of the other three, but none could be found.

“I’ll just call Mycroft, find out where they are,” said John. The first ring went unanswered, but he picked up on the second.

“Hello, John. What’s the matter?”

“Where are you guys?” John asked.

“We’re on our way, we’ll be there in, oh, fifteen minutes?”

“What’s taking so long? We went the same way, you guys were right behind us.”

“Well, Molly had to use the restroom, and then Mrs. Hudson wanted coffee, and when we went to get the coffee, there were these doughnuts that just looked so good, so we got some of those as well.” John, lowering the phone a little, relayed this to Greg and Sherlock.

“Did they get any for us?” asked Greg hopefully. John put the phone back to his ear.

“Did you get any for us?”

“Yes, we did, don’t worry,” Mycroft reassured him.

“Oh, thanks, Mycroft.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“No, I know it wasn’t, but you’re the one on the phone. Tell Molly and Mrs. Hudson I say thank you.”

“I’ll pass along your remarks.”

“See you soon.”

“Goodbye.” John returned his phone to his bag.

“Well, we should probably go pick out a good spot while we wait for the others,” suggested Lestrade. “I mean, there’s not much use standing around here.”

“Good idea, Greg,” said John. “Come on, Sherlock, we’re moving.” Sherlock, not looking up from his phone, followed the others down to the sand. They ended up picking a spot near enough to the water, but not so near that they’d have to keep moving their stuff so it wouldn’t get soaked. Lestrade put up the umbrella while John set out the chairs and towels. “Thanks for all your help, Sherlock,” said John. Sherlock, still on his phone and now browsing Twitter, set it down once John called him out. Once they’d gotten their stuff arranged, they began to settle in. John picked up his book, Lestrade closed his eyes and laid in the sun, and Sherlock went off somewhere down the beach, though John couldn’t see exactly where he’d gone.  
John was only a few pages into his book when the rest of their party showed up. Molly was carrying the bag of doughnuts and her purse, Mrs. Hudson was toting the other food, and Mycroft had the rest of the bags.

“Hi, guys!” said Molly. Lestrade lowered his sunglasses.

“Oh, hey, Molly,” he said. “Did you bring the doughnuts?”

“Yes, I’ve got them right here,” she said.

“Give them here,” Lestrade nearly begged. Molly handed over the bag.

“I should probably warn you, Greg, the doughnuts-”

“How come there’s only one left?” He looked at them and saw Mycroft glancing in the other direction. “Mycroft?”

“Well, I was the one who bought them anyway,” said Mycroft. “We can buy more later.”

“I guess we should split this, then,” said Greg, turning to John.

“Oh, no, that’s okay, you have it,” said John.

“Thanks, John.”

“Don’t mention it.” John went back to reading his book.

“Where’s Sherlock wandered off to?” asked Mycroft anxiously.

“Um, somewhere over there.” John gestured vaguely towards the surf.

“Thank you for your assistance,” said Mycroft, rolling his eyes. He sat down on his chair. “This sand really does get in all the nooks and crannies, doesn’t it?” he said, pulling off one of his leather dress shoes, turning it upside-down and swiftly patting the bottom. He was still in his fancy government clothes.

“Well, why aren’t you in a swimsuit?” said Mrs. Hudson exasperatedly. She had clearly had this conversation multiple times in the car.

“I told you already,” said Mycroft. “I’ve got one on underneath, just in case. I don’t need to be wearing it all the time.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, you’re at the beach.” Mrs. Hudson threw her hands up in frustration.

“I think you should wear the swimsuit,” chimed John. He looked at Mycroft in a bit of a come-at-me sort of way.

“Oh, alright,” Mycroft conceded. He removed the suit, revealing an early-nineteenth-century-esque striped one piece. John smirked. Mrs. Hudson looked away but was presumably doing the same. Molly struggled to contain a smile and began to blush. Greg burst into uncontrollable laughter. “There’s no need to stare.”

“Mycroft, my word!” said Mrs. Hudson, and that made Greg laugh harder and louder.

“What’s Griswold laughing ab-” someone began before emitting a low chuckle. John turned around and Sherlock was standing above him.

“Dear GOD SHERLOCK YOU SCARED THE F-”

“Okay, but Griswold wasn’t even close, Sherlock,” interrupted an annoyed Greg.

“Who wants crisps?” Sherlock asked, paying mind to neither John nor Griswold. Evidently he had been at the snack bar. “Oh, and I bought chips for you.”

“How’d you remember I like chips?” John stammered.

“We live together.”

“Ah yes.” The group was quiet for a moment.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” said Molly in a rushed tone. Her cheeks reddened as she grabbed a bag.

“Yes, that’s rather kind of you, brother mine. Although I won’t be having any, as there are no Cheese and Onion bags to be found.”

“Eugh, you like Cheese and Onion??” Greg asked, dumbfounded.

“Those are the worst flavor crisps,” said Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft ignored them.

“I’m going to go to the water,” said Sherlock. “Would anyone care to join me?”

“I’m a bit busy,” said Greg, who had paused his sunbathing and was now enjoying his doughnut.

“Okay, what about you, John?” Sherlock looked over at him. John sighed and put down his book.

“Okay, Sherlock,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” Though he was annoyed at not being able to continue his book, Sherlock at the beach was a foreign concept to him, and one he was eager to see. He followed Sherlock down to the waves.


	3. Crabs

It was low tide, and there were murky puddles of water everywhere as John and Sherlock made their way down the beach to the water. Sherlock was carrying a medium-sized bucket. When they were near the shore, he lowered himself to the ground and started scooping the wet sand into it so that it lined the bottom. He then started filling it with water. He stood back up and the boys waded into the chilly surf. John jumped and pulled back his feet from the cold water at first but soon got used to it. Every now and then, Sherlock would bend down and pick something up and put it in his bucket. John was a few feet ahead of Sherlock when he realized the detective wasn’t right next to him.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John turned around and waded back to where he was standing. Sherlock held his bucket out so John could peer inside. He had turned the inside of the bucket into a mini ecosystem, into which he had put rocks, shells, and pieces of seaweed, and it was hosting several hermit crabs. John let out a little gasp.

“Sherlock, that’s-”

“Perfectly reasonable? I’m kidnapping hermit crabs, it’s only fair that I give them a suitable environment.”

“Well, er- I guess.” He paused. “I assume you have a reason for doing that?”

“Yes.”

“And it is…”

“Science.”

“Science?”

“Science. I wish to study them.”

“Oh, okay.” They waded further in together, though from now on John stopped and waited when Sherlock saw something he wanted to add. “So what exactly are you going to study?”

“I’m going to see if there’s a pattern that determines which crabs are more sociable than the others.”

"Sherlock, they’re all hermits. No hermit is sociable.”

“Wow, John, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” Sherlock said without changing his expression in the slightest. John scowled.

“So how are you going to study them?”

“I’m going to put them in my hand and see if they crawl around, and observe how they interact with each other,” Sherlock explained.

“So you’re going to play with them?” John grinned.

“I-” Sherlock began.

“Just admit it,” John insisted. Sherlock blushed.

“I will not, because I have nothing to admit to. I am doing actual science, and you just can’t understand it.”

“Sure.” John enjoyed teasing him.

“Shut up.” Sherlock looked away, but John could see the corners of his mouth turn upwards. They stood there for a bit, the waves lapping at their ankles. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Back to the others. I’m ready to begin my experiment now.”

“Ah, okay.” They turned around and headed back up towards their friends. The hot sand burned their feet and John was practically hopping to their chairs. Sherlock showed no sign of pain except for   
blinking whenever he put a foot down.

“Hey, guys,” greeted Lestrade. He had made another visit to the snack bar and was having a hot dog.

“Why are you having lunch already?” John asked. “It’s still early.”

“No it isn’t,” retorted Lestrade. John picked up his phone from where he’d left it on his chair earlier, checked the time, and saw that it was afternoon.

“I guess you’re right,” John conceded. “And I am a bit hungry anyways.”

“You guys are always hungry,” said Sherlock. “Why must you always be eating? You don’t want to end up like Mycroft.” John rolled his eyes and headed for the snack bar as he heard a noise of protestation from the government official.

“Whatcha got there, Sherlock?” said Lestrade.

“An experiment.”

“Just looks like hermit crabs to me.”

“Of course it would, Gavin.” Lestrade opened his mouth to complain but was cut off. “I’m going to see if there’s a pattern that determines which crabs are more sociable than the others.”

“So you’re going to play with them?” Lestrade grinned just as John had done.

“No, no! Why does everyone think that? Why does nobody understand that I am doing real, actual science?”

“Because you’re just playing with them.” Sherlock shot Lestrade a death glare and the DI quickly shut up. Sherlock looked up at the empty chairs.

“Where are the others?”

“You just noticed?”

“Where are they?”

“Mrs. Hudson’s flirting with some geezer over there.” He waved his arm down the beach where, sure enough, Mrs. Hudson was chatting up an old man. “Molly just went down to the water a few minutes ago, and Mycroft’s right here.” Mycroft, surrounded by bounty from the snack bar, smiled at Sherlock but his eyes didn’t look so happy. He gave a small wave to his little brother.

“Hello, brother mine. I thought you’d forgotten me.”

“Oh, no, I could never forget you. I just tuned you out.” Mycroft made an unpleasant face. Lestrade chuckled at the exchange. “Brother dear, have you gone to the water yet? I think you’d enjoy it. Nice and cold, just like your heart.” Mycroft glared at him.

“No, Sherlock, I haven’t gone swimming yet.”

“When John comes back let’s all go together.”

“Sounds like fun,” chimed Lestrade. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “If you’ll all shut up after.” Sherlock and Lestrade grinned wickedly for a moment before Sherlock turned his attention back to his crabs. He reached his hand into the bucket and scooped up some sand and water, and picked up one of the crabs. The crab crawled around the tiny puddle of water. Sherlock smiled to himself.

“You are playing with them!” Lestrade said.

“Am not!” insisted Sherlock. His face was turning red. Just as Sherlock was about to explode, however, John turned up with lunch for him and Sherlock.

“Hey, Sherlock, I don’t know if you’re hungry but I brought you some lunch.” He looked at angry Sherlock with the crab in his hands and sheepish Lestrade, filled in the blanks, and smiled. The smile disappeared the minute Sherlock turned to face him, however. “Sherlock, what’s happened?”

“Lestrade was being mean.” Lestrade looked shocked.

“I was not ‘being mean’, I was just teasing.” John gave a look to Lestrade that said ‘yes, I know, but Sherlock’s upset’. Lestrade nodded like a scolded child.

“How was Lestrade being mean?” John crouched next to Sherlock, still holding his crab.

“He said I was just playing with them.” Sherlock said, pouting.

“I said that too, and you didn’t seem angry then.”

“Yes, but Gavin wouldn’t stop.” Lestrade’s mouth opened but closed quickly when John shot him another look.

“Okay, Lestrade promises to stop being mean, is that fine?”

“I suppose so.”

“Alright, then, let’s have some lunch.” Sherlock reluctantly put the crab back in the bucket with the others and went to his chair. His legs were covered in sand and he tried to brush it off before sitting down but it wasn’t enough. John passed him his lunch: a salad and a water. Light enough that Sherlock would probably eat most of it, meaning less waste. John, on the other hand, was having a ham sandwich with crisps and a lemonade. While they were eating, Molly and Mrs. Hudson returned. As Molly wrapped herself in her towel, Mrs. Hudson regaled them with the tale of her wooing.

“He looked nice enough so I went up to him and we chatted, but he just seemed so boring,” she sighed. “After Frank, though, everyone does.”

“Maybe boring’s what you need, though,” John said. “Nice, quiet life.” Mrs. Hudson made a sour face and shook her head.

“Nobody needs boring,” said Sherlock in a low voice. Everyone turned to look at him. “Oh, was that out loud? Doesn’t matter; it’s true. Boring is boring. Mrs. Hudson, if you want excitement, then you should get excitement.” Everyone looked surprised, to say the least.

“That was really nice, Sherlock,” said Molly.

“It’s not nice, it’s true,” he said, looking down at his salad and shifting it around with his fork.

“It is nice, and it is true,” said John. Sherlock looked up and gave a small smile. “Good timing.” Sherlock looked back down at his salad again, though John could see he was still beaming.  
Once everybody had finished eating, John and Molly took care of the trash. When they returned, Greg reminded Mycroft of his promise to go swimming. Mycroft rolled his eyes in response, but stood up anyway.

“We can’t all go,” said Sherlock. “Unguarded stuff at the beach is an invitation for theft.”

“I’ll stay,” said Mrs. Hudson. “There’s a man over there who seems nice.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H, that’s really great of you,” said John.

“It’s nothing,” she said. The five remaining headed down the beach to the waves. Mycroft scowled the entire time, but Sherlock kept shooting him smug faces. As they were about to walk through the wet part of the sand, a familiar voice to their left called out.

“Hi!”


	4. Water Wars

Sitting there, in a designer swimsuit and sunglasses, feet totally buried in the mound of sand at his feet, was none other than Jim Moriarty. He was smiling innocently, though everyone there knew he was anything but. He stood up and shook off his sand-covered feet before striding over to where the party was standing in shock.

“What a coincidence we’re both here, right, Sherlock?” He asked, patting him on the shoulder as if they were friends.

“Knowing you, it’s hardly a coincidence. What are you doing here? Got any murders lined up?” Sherlock responded coldly, pushing off his hand and taking a step back.

“Murders? Oh no, no murders. Today’s my day off.” Sherlock squinted at the criminal mastermind, trying to discern if he was lying or not. Moriarty smiled vacantly.

“Day off?”

“Being your arch-nemesis is hard work, Sherlock. Sometimes I just need a break. To turn off the constant noise in my head.” He made an indescribable face. “But what are you doing here? You don’t seem like the beach-going type.”

“Neither do you.”

“And yet here we are.” John cleared his throat.

“Um, Sherlock, we’re waiting.” Sherlock turned from Moriarty to look at him.

“Right. Well, Jim,” he said. “See you around.” The group had barely taken a step towards their destination when he called out.

“Wait!” Everyone turned to look at him. He smiled sheepishly. “Can I come with you? It’s boring to be all alone.” The friends turned to look at each other, and their eyes debated whether or not to let him tag along. Sherlock spoke first.

“Oh, alright.”

“Oh, this will be fun!” Jim said as he grinned and ran over to them. The six walked down to the waves. When they reached the shoreline, Jim and Greg ran right in with no regards to the frigid temperature. Sherlock waded in not as eagerly but didn’t seem to mind the cold either. Molly shivered as she entered the water. John was even less inclined to the chilly waves this time than he was last time, and he was hopping and shivering before the water even went past his knees. Mycroft was the last one to go in, and only after additional coaxing from everybody else.

“Oh, hurry up, there’s no fun in going slow!” Jim shouted happily as he nearly shoved Mycroft in. When he came into contact with the freezing water, he grimaced.

“I don’t know what you find worthwhile about this. Now I’m just cold and salty.”

“Brother dear, you were always cold and salty,” Sherlock said without emotion. Mycroft glared at him. John, who had submerged himself in an effort to adjust quicker to the cold, surfaced behind Sherlock. He tapped the detective on the shoulder, then quickly ducked back under the water. Sherlock whipped around and immediately noticed the shadow beneath the water’s surface. He pretended not to see it, however, and put on an expression of mock confusion while John giggled underwater, creating lots of bubbles and a strange, high pitched noise. Sherlock turned around again, hoping to lure John into tapping him again so he could catch him in the act. John fell for it and Sherlock, reflexes fast as lightning, spun around and grabbed his arms.

“Caught you. Be faster next time.” He shot John a small smile.

“Got you the first time, though.” John burst into another round of giggles. Sherlock’s smile soon grew to a wide grin that spread across his face. Before long, he was giggling, too. “Let’s see which of us can hold our breath the longest underwater,” said John once he’d caught his breath.

“It’s me,” said Sherlock.

“Prove it,” challenged John. The two disappeared under the water. Molly looked at the ripples they’d left and sighed quietly. Lestrade put his arm around her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” offered Lestrade.

“Maybe later. It’s a lot to deal with at the beach.” She took a deep, shaky breath.

“I get it.” Molly smiled at him through shiny eyes.

“Thanks, Greg. You’re a good friend.”

“No problem. And if you ever need a wingman, just let me know. I’ll help you find a straight guy to fall for.”

“I will.” Molly had calmed down and looked as though nothing had happened; in fact, she was smiling. It was nice to have friends. Meanwhile, John had lost the breathing competition. He surfaced, sputtering. When he saw that he had lost, he groaned, rolled his eyes, and kicked the shadow under the water. Sherlock came up looking very confused.

“Why’d you kick me?”

“You won.”

“What a poor sport.”

“Says the guy who stabbed the Cluedo board to the wall.”

“Shut up.” They giggled again, giddy from lack of breath and the excitement of the day. Mycroft was off to the side, still shivering and grumpy.

“Mycroft, the sooner you totally submerge yourself, the sooner you’ll get used to it,” suggested John, grinning. Mycroft smiled, but his eyes were annoyed. He then reluctantly ducked under the water and came right back up.

“It was still cold,” Mycroft said, arms crossed.

“Did it help?” John asked hopefully.

“Not in the slightest.” John, however, had already lost interest in trying to persuade Mycroft to have fun. He turned his attention back to Sherlock, who was trying to mold wet sand into a ball. John joined him and made a ball of his own. When he moved his hands up to show Sherlock, however, it crumbled in his hands.

“John, you have to be gentle, see?” He moved his hands slowly but kept a firm hold on his creation. He moved his arm back and launched it right between Mycroft’s shoulder blades. He quickly shifted his hands behind his back as if he had done nothing. Mycroft turned and glared at the pair. “It was John,” blamed Sherlock. Mycroft saw through this and kept a cool stare with Sherlock. He turned back around slowly. It was John’s turn to launch a sand ball at Mycroft. He moved so he was slightly behind Sherlock in case Mycroft tried to get him. Mycroft turned around and his eyes flashed. He drew a deep breath.

“Woah, woah, woah, Mikey. Can I call you Mikey?,” interrupted Jim, putting a hand on Mycroft’s arm. He glared at Jim.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. My name,” he said, “is Mycroft.” Jim, donning an expression of mock o, looked over at Sherlock and John, then turned back to the angry man.

“I know, but I just thought, since we know each other so well now, we might be on a nickname basis.” By now, Mycroft had regained his composure and had returned to his cool self. “Okay, you’re not on fire anymore. Good, that’s good. I’ll just call you Mike.” Moriarty walked away as unexpectedly as he had intervened. He lay on his back, floating on the water and occasionally paddling his hands so as not to go all the way back to the shore. He really was an enigma.


	5. The Great Game

Jim jumped up abruptly from his floating position in the water. He had a mischievous look on his face. He waited until everyone was looking at him. His eyes were wide with excitement and his grin crossed from ear to ear.

“We should do chicken-fights!” Mycroft’s brow frowned in confusion, as did Sherlock’s. Everybody else looked either amused or excited at the idea.

“What is a chicken fight?” asked Mycroft. He did not enjoy not knowing something.

“It’s when you get on someone’s shoulders and try to knock someone else off of their person’s shoulders,” explained John. “It’s pretty fun.” Sherlock was now eyeing John as one does when the teacher lets you work with whoever you want, but with a bit more attraction involved.

“The game sounds as stupid as the name,” said Mycroft, rolling his eyes. 

“But then we only have five people, and it’s teams of two,” said Greg.  
Mycroft sighed. “I suppose I’ll play if it’ll make you guys happy,” he said. Everyone, including Sherlock, nodded eagerly.

“Great! Now, I think I’ll partner up with Sherlock,” said Moriarty, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“Oh, um, actually, Jim, I-” Sherlock began. Moriarty shushed him. Sherlock looked over at John disappointedly, begging him to intervene and ask to be partners. John picked up on this.

“Moriarty, could Sherlock and I be partners? Please?” Jim rolled his eyes. He wasn’t relenting. “Mycroft, do something.”

“Jim, would you like to be my partner? I am a Holmes.” Moriarty considered this for a few seconds.

“Oh, alright. We better win, though.” Jim sulked over to where Mycroft was standing.

“I’ll do my best.”

“So I guess that leaves us, Molly,” said Greg. Molly smiled. Then began the long process of mounting shoulders. For a group of three geniuses and three reasonably clever people, it took a surprisingly long time. First, they had to figure out who was mounting who. Sherlock jumped on John’s back, scrambling to climb up the shoulders. The two fell backwards into the water.

“Sherlock! You’re bigger than me, you can’t go on top! Stand still.” John tried to climb up, though he wasn’t very graceful.

“Ow, John, you’re pulling my hair!”

“Then crouch lower so I can get up easier.” Sherlock obeyed and John reached his shoulders. He stood up a bit too quickly, though, and before John had secured his position.

“Sherlock, wait!” John toppled backwards into the water, pulling Sherlock down with him. They had to repeat this process a few times before they were ready to go. Meanwhile, Jim was attempting to climb on Mycroft. He was pretty agile, but Mycroft kept squirming at the physical contact, making it very difficult for Jim to keep hold on him.

“Mycroft Holmes, I swear to God I will topple your entire country if you don’t stop moving,” Jim said, getting increasingly louder with each word. He managed to stay still long enough for Jim to climb up. He patted him on the head. “Good job, Mike.”  
Greg and Molly had the easiest time with it. Molly was smaller, but strong, so she went on top to face off against the other riders. When at last John managed to stay on Sherlock for more than five seconds, it was time to start.

“How should we do this?” Greg asked. “Two face off, then the winner goes against someone else, or what?” Everyone pondered this as they realized they had an odd number of teams.

“I guess we’ll have to do that,” said John.

“I’d prefer a one vs. one vs. one!” said Moriarty enthusiastically. “I want to topple ALL of you! Let’s get ready to rrrrumble!”

“You can’t topple us. We’re the strongest team here!” retorted John, as Sherlock nodded.

“I think we’re the best team,” said Molly quietly. The two other teams looked at them for a second and went back to arguing with each other.

“Enough chatter!” said Jim. “Let the battle begin!”

He and John immediately began waving their hands threateningly in the general direction of each other while they waited for the slow-moving Holmes brothers (is there any other way to move in water?) to reach each other. Greg stepped forward tentatively towards the skirmish, but then decided against it and stepped back again. “Good move,” Molly said. The Holmes brothers had reached each other and now John and Jim were fighting hard. Jim shoved John and their team nearly fell over, but luckily Sherlock didn’t let that happen. John , aiming for the chest, accidentally hit Jim in the face.

“John! Not cool! It’s not easy being this good looking, and you’re not helping.”

“Sorry.” John tried to push him again but Jim succeeded first. The Baker Street boys crashed backwards into the water, splashing Jim and Mycroft, much to the latter’s disdain. John forgot to let go of Sherlock, however, until the detective started making strangled noises underwater. At last, he was allowed to come up for air.

“John, you nearly drowned me. Let go next time.”

“Keep your balance next time.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. They turned their attention to the two remaining teams, who were now making their way towards each other.

“Oh, Mike, we’ve totally got this in the bag,” said Jim. “This’ll be too easy. Faster, Mikey, faster! You’re a terrible horse.” Mycroft shuddered and made a face. He was not enjoying this at all. When they reached Greg and Molly, Jim grinned. “Hi, Molly. You’re going to fall for me again, how funny is that?” He tried to shove her, but Greg moved them out of the way and Jim and Mycroft nearly fell over. “That was a close one, Mike. Good save.” Molly reached out and shoved him as hard as she could (which was really hard) and they toppled over. Jim yelled in surprise as he went down. Mycroft could not have stood up out of the water faster.

“Yeah, we won!” shouted Greg, reaching up to give Molly a high-five.

“That’s not fair, you guys didn’t do the one vs. one vs. one!” Moriarty complained. “I want a redo.” Greg and Molly looked at each other, shrugged, and agreed. “And can we switch teams?” he asked. “Mike wasn’t being very fun.” Everyone else reluctantly nodded their heads yes. Sherlock was sulking as Moriarty tried to climb on his back and tried to make it difficult for him to do so but he decided against ticking off the criminal mastermind. Molly went on top of John, and Mycroft and Greg teamed up. After much shoving and splashing and almost-losing-balance-but-catching-it-at-the-last-second, Molly and John won the second round. Sherlock and Jim were, much to Jim’s anger, first down. “I’m never teaming with you again, Sherlock. You’re horrible at this.” Sherlock shrugged.  
Sherlock’s excellent tactics combined with Molly’s strength meant a sure win for the two friends. The gang played a few more rounds with various teams (but in the end just reverted back to their original ones) before realizing how late it was. The sun was low in the sky when they walked back up the beach to where Mrs. Hudson was waiting. 

“Bye, everyone!” said Moriarty. “Parting is such sweet… what was it? Nevermind. Parting isn’t sweet anyway. Wait up, Sebastian!” Everyone was tired and ready to leave. And they did.


	6. Back Home

A little over an hour later, the two cars arrived back in London. Mycroft dropped off Molly and then headed to Baker Street to drop off Mrs. Hudson before returning home. Greg stayed for a little while when he dropped off Sherlock and John, but before long he left too, and then there were three. Mrs. Hudson was going somewhere that evening, the boys didn’t know where (Sherlock would be beside himself if he knew), so that evening in Baker Street, it would just be Sherlock and John. 

“Today was fun, don’t you think?” John asked, relaxing in his plush red chair. Sherlock was leaning forward in his black one, hands pressed together in his typical thinking position.

“Yes, I suppose it was.”

“It was strange to see Moriarty acting so… harmless.”

“He pushed you.”

“That’s the point of the game.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t push you.” John smiled.

“Didn’t know you cared so much,” he said.

“I don’t; I’m just stating the facts. Saying he pushed you does not mean I care.”

“And there it is.” Sherlock scrunched up his face, confused.

“There what is?”

“Nothing. Good night.” John left and went upstairs to his room. Sherlock remained in his chair for the better part of the night, past even when Mrs. Hudson came home.


End file.
